


All the Right Reasons

by bethagain



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Backstory, Family, Gen, Gen Fic, Here's why it happened anyway, Luke knows taking on Ben's training is a bad idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 18:45:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6622102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethagain/pseuds/bethagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You'll teach him, won't you?” Leia’s eyes were on the baby but her question was for Luke.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He reached out to place his left hand on the tiny, perfect head. Energy flowed from Ben to himself and back again. He couldn't tell what was the Force and what was pure, blazing love.</i>
</p><p> <i>He couldn't tear his eyes away, even as he said, “I can't.”</i></p><p>Scenes from life with Luke, Han, Leia, and Ben--from babyhood to the day he left for Jedi School.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Right Reasons

**Author's Note:**

> Endless thanks to [Tyellas](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyellas/pseuds/Tyellas) and my friends D and A for beta reading, commenting, suggesting, and generally putting up with the process on this one. You are all awesome and I am so grateful. 
> 
> Any remaining problems in the storytelling are absolutely my own fault!

Princess Leia Organa and General Han Solo sat in the sterile, chilly medbay pod. Leia was perched on the high exam table. Han slouched in a chair beside her, one hand resting on her calf. It seemed forever before the door slid open and the medic returned, a printout in her hand.

“Congratulations,” she said, with a warm smile for them both. “Looks like you’re about six weeks along.”

Han looked at Leia. Leia looked at Han. “Well, shit,” they said together.

 

It was lousy timing. The battle above Endor had been a success, but they’d taken heavy losses. The Empire was hardly going to throw them a baby shower. And Alliance uniforms didn’t come in newborn size. 

Leia didn’t tell anyone else for a whole month. And even then she didn’t _tell,_ exactly.

She thought she was doing pretty well, slipping away from the command center to throw up in the bathroom and hurrying right back. She already kept protein bars in her pockets, because rebellions don’t abide by regular mealtimes. 

But of course Luke busted her. And of course he had to do it so _nicely,_ she wasn’t sure whether to kick him or cry.

He’d just come from six weeks on Ralle II, helping set up air defense for a new Rebel base. Halfway through reporting on their progress, he stopped and stared at her. She watched his face go through confusion to surprise to the start of a smile, and end at concern. Luke finished his report and then stood there looking at her, radiating questions. 

“My quarters at 1900,” she said and turned back to her console, hoping no one else had noticed.

 

“Are you alright?” was the first thing Luke asked.

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him, “Of course I’m alright,” but the truth was, she wasn’t. Leia sank down in a chair, noticing that her waistband was a little tighter than usual. She couldn’t possibly be showing yet, could she?

Luke sat across from her on the sofa. Its black neo-leather upholstery would be reasonably baby-proof, she thought. But what about that stack of top-secret documents on the low table in front of it? 

What about the rest of her life?

“You look fine,” Luke said. “I mean, just the same as usual.”

“How did you know?”

“I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to.”

“No, it’s fine.” Of course she’d been going to tell him, she just hadn’t thought it out yet. “But how?”

Luke gestured at her helplessly. “It’s… There are two of you. I mean--there’s you, and there’s… something else. Someone else.”

Leia sighed. “You know that’s a little disturbing, the way you do that.”

“You could do it too,” he said, as he always did.

“Maybe someday.”

“So,” he said, letting that go, “What are you going to do?”

“Well, if he takes after you or Han, I guess I’m going to look for a very, very small flightsuit.”

He didn’t smile. “You don’t have to do this, Leia.”

“I know,” she said.

They sat there in silence for a while.

“I can’t give up my position in the Alliance,” she said. “We can’t spare Han, either. Chewbacca’s not going to fly the _Falcon_ without him.”

She could see how hard Luke was trying to be neutral, and she wanted to hit him. This was his family too, the least he could do was have an opinion.

“It’s your choice, though, not mine,” he said, then looked embarrassed as he realized he’d replied to her thoughts again, not to her words. “Sorry.”

Leia wondered if all twins had to deal with this, or just ones whose brothers were trained in using the Force. She knew Luke didn’t pry on purpose. Most of the time he stayed out of her head unless she wanted him to know what she was thinking. But times like this, when things got intense, he seemed to have trouble keeping to boundaries. 

She knew there was a way to shield her thoughts, but with Vader and the Emperor gone, she’d never put in the time to learn it.

And there it was, the part of this thing that worried her most of all. She wouldn’t be the first Rebel leader to direct missions with a baby slung across her chest. It was safe enough, in the command centers… And when it wasn’t, well, that was her life right now. She’d already accepted that there were no guarantees.

But was there a different kind of danger here? She looked over at Luke and saw that his face had gone even more solemn. She nodded, permission for him to have heard her.

“I don’t know,” he said. “The Emperor is gone.” He didn’t mention their father. “If there’s anyone else out there, we don’t know about them yet.”

“But Vader,” she said.

“Anakin,” Luke said.

She didn’t see any point in arguing. She just said, “Could that happen again?” She was surprised to realize she’d placed a hand over her abdomen.

Luke’s gaze followed her hand as he said, “I don’t know.”

“Well,” Leia said. “Maybe it won’t be an issue. He could be like his father. I think Han's still waiting for you to reveal that the Force is all just a magic trick.”

“Maybe,” Luke said, but he looked doubtful.

“You said you could feel the baby’s presence already. Does that mean anything?”

Luke looked to her first for assent, then moved closer and placed his own hand over hers. He closed his eyes and they sat that way a moment, a tiny fragment of family. Finally he said, “It’s just… there.”

“Can you usually tell if someone’s pregnant?” she asked.

He took his hand back, shook his head. “Doesn’t come up that often with fighter pilots. But, no, not that I’ve noticed.” He shrugged. “But nobody else is you.”

 

A simple tie held back Leia’s waist-length hair, had kept it off her face while she pushed. Her skin was still shiny with sweat. The tiny being cuddled against her chest was rosy-skinned, with tightly closed eyes and a surprising amount of dark hair on his fragile head.

“You'll teach him, won't you?” Leia’s eyes were on the baby but her question was for Luke.

“‘Course he will. Right, kid?” Han’s voice sounded confident and cocky as usual. To an outsider, it might have seemed strange that he was slouched in a chair in the corner, while Leia held their new baby way across the room.

But Luke could feel the fear radiating off his friend. It wasn't hard to guess the thoughts behind it: _I'll drop the baby. I don't know how to raise a kid. What the_ hell _am I gonna do if he cries?_

The Force flowed through that tiny, perfect being like a fast-moving river. Luke wondered if that was normal for a newborn, new life making waves in the energy fields of the universe. He had no frame of reference and no one to ask. 

But there was something even stronger, something that outshone the Force energy until it seemed like a flicker against the sun.

Luke had loved before. He'd loved his uncle and aunt, he loved Han and Chewbacca, he loved Leia with a fierce protectiveness even though she could probably stare down a Rathtar. But this: it might as well have been his own child. He was astonished at how suddenly and how _much_ this child owned his heart.

He reached out to place his left hand on the tiny, perfect head. Energy flowed from the baby to himself and back again. He couldn't tell what was the Force and what was pure, blazing love.

He couldn't tear his eyes away, even as he said, “I can't.”

“Sure you can,” said Han from his chair way over there. “Somebody's gotta stop him levitating out of his cradle, or whatever you two did as kids. “

“Not how the Force works,” Leia reminded him with a gentle smile, Luke a split second behind her with the same reply.

Han threw up his hands. “Twins,” he muttered as he got up to leave the room. He stopped at the bed to place a kiss on Leia’s forehead and spend a single, still moment gazing down at his son. “Talk some sense into Luke,” he whispered to Leia (loud enough for Luke to hear just fine).

“He'll be back,” Leia said, and Luke nodded, “Oh, I know he will.” He'd long since gotten over Han’s need to clear out of a room ahead of difficult conversations. 

Disagreements with Han always ended the same way. Sometimes Han walked away slowly and deliberately, sometimes he left stamping his feet and with both hands waving. They'd go without speaking for an hour or maybe a day, and then Luke would be walking past the _Falcon_ and Han would holler down, “Need a hand here!” 

Luke would step on the ladder or go jogging up the gangplank, and Han would slap a spanner into his palm. They’d get to work on the hyperdrive or wrestle a new radio into place. As long as they weren't _talking,_ as long as they were _getting things done,_ they'd hash out whatever it was. 

Luke wondered briefly how Han and Leia’s fights ended. Then he thought about the fact that they hadn't _planned_ on getting pregnant, and realized he already had a pretty good idea.

Leia was looking down at the baby with the softest expression Luke had ever seen her wear. Without looking up, she asked him, “Why can’t you?” 

He reached out again, this time with his right hand, the one that was silicone and metal, no longer flesh. The energy was dulled a bit this way, but he could still feel the tug of that current as he gently stroked the baby’s back. The tiny boy breathed steadily, sound asleep, his cheek pressed into Leia’s breast. 

“We’ve been through so much,” Luke said. “I know things now that I--” His hand stilled, resting against Ben’s skin as he sought to find the words. 

“How could I do that to him?”

 

Ben at twelve months old was a bundle of giggles, especially when he was fresh from a nap. Han would lift the baby out of his crib and, with one hand under his stomach and the other on his back to hold him safe, he’d fly Ben through the air like an X-wing in a dogfight, growling out the engine noises and yelling “pew-pew-pew” for the guns. 

Ben would laugh and laugh, until finally Han deposited him in Leia’s arms to be cuddled and fed.

 

Han was gone for the night, delivering weapons to a faraway outpost that (they hoped) the Empire had overlooked. Leia had just settled in with a stack of policies that needed her approval, the baby banging blocks together on a blanket beside her, when the door buzzer sounded.

She used a flick of her mind to flip on the vid (and what a neat trick that was). The screen lit with her brother’s face, one hand raised to wave hello.

Luke was away a lot these days, flying missions for the Alliance. And then he'd show up just like this, still dressed for the cockpit, hair all a mess from the helmet tucked under his arm.

Leia triggered the door without getting up. “That way,” she said, inclining her head. Luke took the hint as he always did, dropping the helmet on a counter and heading for the refresher.

She turned back to her papers. Who the _hell_ was the bureaucrat who thought they needed a policy on polishing boots? She picked up a pen, considered for a moment, and then scrawled across the densely typed text: “Don't you know there's a war going on?” 

That one finished, she moved on to a more sensible report on troop movements and supply logistics. They had a limited amount of rations at any given time, and even the most dedicated soldiers still had to eat.

She was so absorbed in calculations that she didn't hear Luke come back into the room. When she looked up to the sound of his voice, he was sitting on the cushioned couch, dressed in a pair of Han’s old trousers and a soft, threadbare shirt that might have been hers. 

Ben was perched on his lap, and Luke was earnestly telling the baby all about where he’d been. “We knew the Empire still had troops in the Hoth system, but we didn’t know how many. If you’d been there you could have helped us count them. One, two, three, four, _five_ battalions!” He counted them off on the fingers of a tiny baby hand. Ben stared up at his uncle with huge eyes, gnawing thoughtfully on his other fist and drooling a bit.

Leia had worried at first about Ben hearing those stories. How much does a baby understand? But Luke was careful to skim over the scary bits. And it wasn’t like Ben would be spreading any Alliance secrets. He hadn’t even said his first word yet.

She looked up again when Luke’s stories finally ended. They were a picture, the two of them, Ben’s black hair against Luke's sandy blond. There were dark smudges under Luke's eyes (typical mission, too much flight time, not enough sleep) but they were as vibrant blue as ever, echoing the sparkle of Ben's.

“I really wish you’d think about it,” Leia said.

Luke leaned down to pick up a soft toy--the image of a tiny, fluffy Ewok--and handed it to Ben, who immediately put one ear in his mouth. 

“Leia,” Luke said. His tone was gentle for the baby, but she could hear the frustration behind it. “I barely know, myself.”

“I’ve watched you,” she said.

He knew she had, as uncomfortable as it made him. 

“I know you still practice with that lightsaber.”

He did. Sometimes during downtime on missions. Sometimes in his own quarters, using the confines of the small area to focus on balance and control. Sometimes in one of the hangars when the ships were out, where he could set multiple drones and use the entire space to keep his body fit and reflexes sharp. He knew he’d been seen, of course. But he didn’t talk about it, and everyone else seemed to respect his silence.

“It's just a tool,” he said. “It defends against blasters. Projectiles. Other lightsabers,” he added quietly. It had been nearly two years since that blade had been raised against his father. 

People knew what it was, by now. He always had it with him, clipped on a utility belt or stowed in a go bag next to his pilot’s seat. It made an impression. But he hadn't used it as a weapon since that day.

“There's so much more,” he said, trying and knowing he’d fail to explain. He stood, shifting Ben to his hip, and walked with him to the high-res monitor that showed the planet’s surface above these underground rooms. It was almost dark, the sky deep indigo and the trees black against it. Three bright stars made a triangle high on the left. The view was a luxury given to a Princess and a war hero. Luke had been offered officer’s quarters but he chose to live in barracks, where without a chrono, time of day was anyone’s guess. 

“See those, Ben? Those top ones are planets. That one on the bottom is another sun, with its own set of planets around it. You can’t see them, but they’re there. Someday I'll show you,” he added, voice a whisper against Ben's hair.

Leia waited for Luke to continue. She had no problem giving orders as a leader in the Alliance, but she'd also learned what quiet could do. It could get to the root of things so much faster, when she let the other person fill in the silence. 

She'd watched Luke do it to other people, a skill he'd picked up during his time away on Dagobah. She'd seen him refuse to fall for it in the presence of diplomats and others who used words as weapons. But when it was just the two of them, it never failed to work.

“I didn’t finish the training,” Luke said. 

Leia knew. So did Han, who’d called it the minute they were off Tatooine, before he was even recovered from the carbonite. 

It didn’t matter, though. To Leia, her brother was a Jedi, no matter what some ancient rulebook said. “You learned so much before Yoda died.” 

“Yes,” Luke said. He held up his right hand, Ben still snug against his left hip. “And look what happened.”  
“You went back,” Leia reminded him.

Luke shook his head. “It was too late. I’m a good pilot, Leia. I have an extra edge.” He shrugged, shifting the baby to a better position as he did. “I know it’s useful to let people think there’s more.”

“It’s more than _useful,_ ” Leia snapped, losing patience with her twin’s damn _modesty._ “I’ve seen the change in you. I’ve seen what you can do. Why won’t you--” But he was doing that thing he’d learned, that gathering of palpable _calm_ around himself, and there was no point going on. She’d never get through now.

“There’s leftover spiceloaf in the conservator,” she said, turning back to her papers. “Go eat. Remember, small bites for the baby.”

 

By the time Ben was four years old, the Alliance was well on its way to transforming into a real government. Whole squadrons of X-wings had been moved to storage as patrols turned peaceful. The last few pockets of Imperial rule were reduced to negotiating with their enemy for food and medicine. There were laws to follow again.

And Han Solo was off doing something that Leia wasn’t entirely sure was legal. 

The Alliance had thanked Han and Chewbacca for their service, handed them medals, and moved on to other priorities. After years as a key player in the Rebellion, the _Millennium Falcon_ was just a freighter again.

This trip wasn’t _exactly_ smuggling, Han had said, but Leia didn’t want to know. As their army was shifting to a peacetime force, she was shifting from wartime leader to diplomat. That meant going back to being Princess Leia, Senator’s daughter. Child of a martyred planet, face of the Rebellion. 

Plausible deniability regarding things that weren’t _quite_ smuggling.

She couldn’t believe that Han had been _hurt_ when she refused to let Ben go with him on… whatever it was he’d gotten himself into. Chewbacca didn’t get it either--promised to sit on Han if he got _near_ anything dangerous. But Chewie seemed to think that outlaws with blasters and short tempers were just part of a normal day.

So Han was off who-knew-where, and Leia had her hands full. 

The holovids loved the fashionable young mother who negotiated treaties with her curly-haired little boy in tow. Good thing they couldn’t see behind the camera, she thought, searching for her other boot while Ben zoomed around their family quarters, jumping off furniture and firing photon torpedoes from his model X-wing. 

Why couldn’t Luke give him nice quiet toys? she wondered, setting out milk and a protein bar for Ben and pouring coffee for herself. Oh right, he was one-upping Han after the remote-operated pod-racing set. 

It was a good thing she loved all three of her boys. Leia gnawed on her own protein bar as she watched Ben offer a morsel to the X-wing’s imaginary pilot. He took after Luke more than Han, almost, with his endless questions and the way he seemed to soak up everything that happened around him. 

She didn’t have to bring Ben along with her. He would have been welcome in the creche where Senators’ and ambassadors’ children spent the day. But there were some things… Other children were a little too ready to share their toys with Ben, a little too cheerful about playing the games he chose. She wanted to think it was just her son’s sunny personality, but. 

Was it?

Ben at home was a little boy who tumbled off furniture just to have a reason to laugh, who mashed his food into new shapes before he ate it, who could find the one mud puddle on a dry day. Who, when Han was there, would sneak up and pounce on his father so the two of them could have a wild chase around their quarters. Usually while Leia was trying to read something important.

When Ben came along to her Senate committees and negotiation hearings, though, he somehow transformed into a quiet, serious child who shook hands solemnly when the diplomats and politicians bent to greet him. Who sat through long discussions, leafing quietly through a storybook or playing with his toy starfighters in silence.

She thought of the trade route negotiations the week before, diplomats in their planetary finery, seated around a conference table that was polished to a high shine. The man next to her had a suit in iridescent greens and blues, with hair dyed to match. Across the table, the ambassador from Ceres-Alta wore a simple black suit tailored to fit her so precisely, Leia wondered if she had to get undressed to eat.

Ben sat beside Leia, neatly dressed in the pressed trousers she's chosen for him and a collarless shirt like his father often wore. She was reminded of herself as a girl, attending Senate committee meetings with Bail Organa. Even these days, it wasn’t so strange to see young teens beside their mentors. Ben was a long way from being a teenager, but no one seemed to object to his presence. 

And no one seemed to notice when he leaned over to her, while the others were talking, and whispered, “Mommy? Why is that man lying?”

Leia had whispered back, “Shhh, we’ll talk about it later.” She forced her mind back to hyperdrive pathways and the placement of refueling stations, but the thought wouldn’t go away: _Was he right? Did he_ know? 

After, she’d done her best to explain that sometimes people did bad things for what they thought were good reasons. 

But she worried that Ben might see more deeply than that. That he might be able to sense the greed, the longing for power, the darkness that sometimes lay beneath the lies. Leia knew these things intellectually, had learned to recognize them through long experience in politics, and then in war. She’d never _felt_ them the way her brother did. 

The way her son might.

She wished she could talk to Luke about it, but she hardly ever got to see him. While she was off being Alderaan Royalty, the remaining leaders of the Alliance had pulled her brother into some hush-hush project. It would be weeks, sometimes, before their paths would cross. 

Last night was typical: the door had chimed after dinner, just before Ben’s bedtime. 

“We’ll talk after he’s asleep,” Luke had said, scooping Ben up and carting him off to tuck him under the covers. She heard Ben’s high voice ask for a story, and Luke’s lower one beginning, “Did your dad ever tell you about the time he and Chewbacca escaped from Star’s End?”

And as usual, Leia had looked in on them a little later and found them both sound asleep, dark head next to blond. With the worry lines smoothed away, Luke looked again like the boy who’d turned up in her prison cell, ill-fitting stormtrooper armor and so much naive confidence, all those years ago.

She’d hated to wake him up, but she knew he’d have things to do in the morning. He put a hand on her shoulder on the way out the door, bleary-eyed. “Sorry,” he’d said.

She’d kissed his cheek and sent him on his way. “We’ll talk next time.”

 

Leia stepped off the moving transport at the Capitol building, a portable cup of coffee in one hand and a satchel over her shoulder, boots clicking against the concrete, hating herself as she lifted Ben by one arm over the gap and then hurried him up the steps. It wasn’t his fault they were running behind. She shouldn’t have lingered so long over breakfast, thinking about what trouble Han might be getting into, wondering if Luke’s project was military or politics--and if it was the latter, if he’d know how to defend himself. 

Ben ran to keep up, his hand still in hers. 

Negotiations were not going well between the Atmospheric Mining Commission and the delegation from the Outer Rim. If the New Republic wanted access to the gas mines out there, Leia Organa had better be at the meeting, she'd better be on time, and she’d better be at her most charming. She’d have to work the orphaned-Princess angle for all the sympathy she could get.

This was not a morning to be late.

They were passing the visitors’ lounge when she heard a familiar voice. It took Leia so by surprise that she pulled Ben back to listen. Coffee sloshed out over her other hand, soaking her sleeve.

The lounge had a holovid. It was almost always on, broadcasting the latest news from around the New Republic. 

“People don’t always know,” Luke was saying on screen. He was sitting across from a well-known reporter, hair neatly combed for once. His Alliance dress uniform (when had he _ever_ worn a dress uniform?) was neatly pressed. He looked calm and confident, and she couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“I’ve found a half-dozen men and women in our ranks who are strong with the Force. We have the potential to recreate the Jedi, to bring back a tradition that was a force for good in our galaxy for hundreds of years.”

“A Force for good?” the reporter asked, smiling too hard at her own joke.

Luke smiled back but Leia, standing there clutching her coffee, Ben tugging at her hand, could see the shadow behind it. 

What in the name of Alderaan’s oceans was he _doing?_ And why was she finding out about it from a holovid? And damn it now she _was_ going to be late for--

Someone slammed into her from behind and the cup in her hand went flying, half its contents splashing over her satchel and the other half making a huge puddle on the floor. 

“Princess!” It was the Chair of the Mining Commission, apparently late as well. “So sorry, can I help?”

Leia squared her shoulders and tried not to think about her pocket computer, probably shorting out and taking her schedule with it. 

“It’s all right Senator,” she said, giving up and laughing at the absurdity of this morning, at her small son stepping in the puddle and making careful, coffee-colored footprints beside it. “I believe we have a meeting to get to.” She let the Senator take her arm. 

Two facilities droids scurried past them to clean up the mess. 

Leia would have to find out later what that broadcast was all about. She hoped that whatever political mayhem Luke had gotten himself caught up in, it would be as easy to put right again.

 

Luke had given in and accepted officer’s quarters. The rumor mill was silent on the issue, but Leia still hoped it meant he’d finally met someone. Walking in now for the first time, though, she thought: maybe not. There were a few pieces of furniture and several shelves, all stacked with data tapes and readers from various systems and eras. Luke had X-wing schematics tacked to a wall next to a paper calendar, which was scribbled with notes. 

“Where do you even sit?” she asked, stepping over a pile of scrolls that looked like they belonged in a museum, not tossed on the floor in her brother’s living space.

He cleared a chair for each of them, piling everything up against the far wall. The stack wobbled precariously.

Leia was struck again by how her brother used physical strength and movement, when he could have lifted a hand and floated everything across the room. She was only a beginner at it, but she found genuine enjoyment in levitating a book into her hand when she felt like reading. She didn’t do it in public. Some people would have been thrilled to see it, but a lot more would have been jealous, disbelieving, or terrified. None of those things were going to help her promote harmony in the New Republic.

But here, with just the two of them? It was, she thought, an interesting choice. Something Yoda had taught him, maybe, that it was important not to lose the connection to the physical world. Or maybe this was something he chose on his own, was about keeping grounded in the face of all that power.

“So what was that about, this morning?”

Luke looked abashed. “You saw?”

“Of course I saw! What, did you think nobody was watching?” No, Luke wasn’t that naive. He knew that was a galaxy-wide broadcast, he had to know there would be ripples. “What have you gotten yourself involved in?”

“I’m not nineteen anymore, Leia,” Luke said gently.

Leia had to smile at that. They were the same age, of course, but it was clear to both of them that Leia had been years and years older when they first met. Luke had had a lot of catching up to do. He had, she thought, done it well. He was a respected commander in the Alliance. His troops would follow him anywhere. It was because, she thought, he still went straight to honor, to justice, to emotion. 

They’d eat him alive at the Capitol.

“Are you letting them use you?”

Luke sighed. “Maybe? Look,” he said. “The New Republic is cutting our forces.”

There was nothing accusatory in his tone, but Leia felt it anyway. “Things change in peacetime, Luke. People need to get back to their families, their businesses. We need to build an economy now, not an army.” _I know it’s risky,_ she added in her own thoughts, and didn’t try to hide it.

 _I know you know that._ Luke didn’t speak it, either. Leia the wartime leader had to give way to Leia the politician. She couldn’t let that armor crack. 

“We’ve got to have something to keep peace,” he said. “The Jedi did that for a thousand years. If we can bring the idea back, give everyone something to believe in…” He trailed off. “How am I supposed to tell them no?”

 _You told me no when I asked you to teach Ben,_ Leia thought, but this one she kept to herself. This wasn’t about Ben, not right now.

“We’re starting small,” Luke told her. “Right now it’s just a few hours a day, outside their regular duties. Things come up, and I come back here and try to figure it out.” He indicated the scrolls, the stacks of data-readers, piles of dog-eared papers with writing in languages she couldn’t read. “They had some funny ideas back then. Did you know Jedi weren’t allowed to get married?”

Eyeing the narrow cot also covered in scrolls and data disks, Leia didn’t think that was going to matter much.

“Whose idea was the holo?”

Luke blushed. “It was mine. If we’re going to do this thing, we may as well go all the way.” He raised a hand. “Luke Skywalker, Last Jedi Knight, at your service.”

Leia had a sudden flashback to a Hutt’s palace on Tatooine, to a younger Luke striding in, clad all in black, bluffing the hell out of a room full of cutthroats.

“I guess if anyone can do it,” she said, deciding to believe in him, deciding that Luke Skywalker would never do something that wasn’t all right, “you can.”

 

“I saw you on the holo.” It was three days later and Han was back. The big payout hadn’t materialized, deal gone downhill when a New Republic order dropped the entertainment tariff and the demand for black market liquor evaporated like Corellian whisky tossed out an airlock.

Han had a deep blue bruise over one cheekbone, but at least there were no new arrest warrants. He said. 

Right now he was glaring at Luke.

Luke had buzzed the door chime just a few minutes before, clothes rumpled and dark circles under his eyes again, delighted to see Han. Han had slammed open a cupboard, taken down two cast-plast tumblers, cracked open a beer bottle, split the beer between them, and slammed the tumblers down on the dining table so foam sloshed over the sides. 

“Go on, drink,” Han said. He used one foot to kick out a chair, straddled it, and lifted one of the tumblers in a sarcastic toast. “Or don’t _Jedi_ drink with their friends anymore?”

Luke pulled out another chair and sat, as well. He didn’t touch the other cup. “Han,” he said. “It’s not like that.”

“Yeah?” said Han. “Then what is it like?”

Luke looked pained. Han sat there and glared at him as the silence stretched out.

Leia couldn’t stand it. She laid a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “Why don’t we talk about this later. Luke, I brought home some new plans for the military decommissions. Come look at them with me, tell me if they make sense?”

“Oh I get it,” Han said, anger twisting his face. “It’s always Luke, isn’t it. He’s right no matter what he does. Meanwhile I’m out there trying to provide for this family, and you can’t stand up for _me._ ”

Leia shook her head. “I would,” she told him, voice rising to match his, “if you’d stuck around for more than a minute after the Rebellion ended. Luke’s been here while you’ve been off--running around with smugglers and scoundrels!”

Right away, she wished she could take it back. Han was never cut out for the diplomatic life. He’d been at loose ends since the war ended, doing the best he could in a world that had suddenly become civilized. And Luke hadn’t exactly been in their lives much lately, either. A _Jedi school…_ she still couldn’t believe it, not quite.

“At least there’s honor in siding with your own flesh and blood,” Han said bitterly. He turned on Luke. “You won’t teach Ben, but you’ll start a goddamn Jedi academy for a bunch of strangers?” 

“They’re adults, Han,” Luke said. His voice was quiet, almost pleading. “They chose this.”

“Yeah?” Han’s face was twisted with anger. “Did you tell _them_ the truth?”

Luke’s eyes shifted away, just the tiniest bit. He always was a crap liar, Leia thought. “They know what they need to know.”

“Do they? Do they know you’re afraid to even teach a child?”

“If they don’t,” Luke said, and Leia could hear the heat creeping into his voice, “I’ll make sure to tell them.”

“You do that,” Han said. His tone was nasty, dismissive. “Look at you. You’ll wear yourself out for the _cause._ What’s left for us? Nothing, that’s what.” 

Han stood, pushing the chair away so it clattered against the table. “You’ll leave your own nephew open to the same thing that happened to your father.” He tossed his half-full tumbler into the cleaning sink and walked away.

Leia sat there with Luke for another moment. Then she got up and went after Han.

 

With Luke’s new schedule, it was nearly a week before he was in the same hangar bay as the _Falcon._ Actually he’d gone there on purpose, a stolen hour gained by dismissing his students early. They were thrilled with the break, and he was glad to see Han up on the Falcon’s top hull, banging at something with a wrench.

“How about you use the Force to loosen this thing,” Han said when he’d climbed up the ladder.

Luke’s laugh was mostly relief that Han was speaking to him. “How about you give me that wrench,” he said. Han handed it over and Luke applied brute strength until the bolt started to turn.

Han glared at him. 

“Lightsaber practice. They’re heavy,” Luke said, wondering if that would be the right way in.

Han wiped his hands on a dirty rag, then scrubbed a hand across his face. “All right,” he said, shoving a dismantled sensor antenna over for Luke to reassemble. “You’ve said no. You have your reasons. So are you ever going to tell me? What’s wrong with my son?”

Luke stared at him over the mess of electronics like he’d said there was a Rancor in the crew quarters. “There’s nothing wrong with Ben.”

“Is the Force not strong enough in him?” Han tossed the wrench in a toolbox and reached for a pair of pliers. “That’s it, isn’t it. You don’t think he’ll be good enough?”

“Ben's like me,” Luke said, and there wasn't any pride in it. “Those people I’m training, they’re flickers, small flames. Ben, he's like a bonfire.” He leaned forward, reaching for a bolt that had rolled away. “The other night--he was already in bed, sound asleep, and I could feel him in there, dreaming.”

Luke lifted the small sensor and peered at the disconnected wires. “Yoda always knew,” he said. “When I was off balance, when I was tired, when I needed a push. These students…” He took a breath. “I think I can do that for them.

“I can’t do that for Ben.”

“Yes you can,” Han said, his voice muffled as he leaned in to disconnect the fuel hose from a landing jet. “You can do anything, kid.” He came back up with a fuel delivery coupling in his hand. “Would you look at this? Rust! What the hell are they selling these days.” He tossed the coupling aside and rummaged in the toolbox for a new one. “I wouldn’t have believed it ten years ago,” he said. “But you can.”

Luke didn’t answer. He worked on the passive sensor antenna a while longer, fitting the tiny wires into place one by one. 

“I can’t see through it,” he said. 

“Can’t see through what?”

Luke set down the delicate screwdriver he’d been using. “How much I love him.” 

Han picked up the completed antenna and stepped down into the open hatch to slide it into place. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Not for a teacher. It’s all mixed up, Han. Ben might be making bad mistakes, or he might need to make them. He might need extra help, or he might need to be allowed to fail. And I won’t be able to see it. I already can’t see it.” Luke began picking up the tools he’d been using and slotting them back into their places. “All I can see is I love him.”

Han emerged again, hair standing on end and a smear of grease on his forehead. He tossed the torque-spanner carelessly back in the toolbox, then hoisted himself up to sit on the edge of the hatch.

“So you really are scared.”

“Yeah.”

Han leaned back on his elbows, looking up at the roof of the hangar high above them. “Luke Skywalker, scared. Who would’ve ever thought.”

“Han, I’m scared to death most of the time. Have you noticed what I’m trying to do here? Train a whole new generation of Jedi?”

“Says the guy who faced up to Darth Vader. Twice.”

“Scared out of my skull, Han,” Luke said. “Both times.”

“Really?” Han turned to look at him now. “Well.” He swung his legs up out of the hatch, knelt to close and secure the doors. “Huh.”

“C’mon,” Luke said, getting to his feet and picking up the toolbox. “Show me what else needs doing.”

 

The Jedi academy moved off-planet after the first year, leaving Chandrila behind for a colony world where land was cheap and politics was easier to avoid. Leia had heard some grumbling about it--among Luke’s students were some of the best pilots in the New Republic forces. But she trusted that once they returned as Jedi Knights, all would be forgiven.

Chandrila wasn’t the center of the galaxy anymore either. The Senate had decreed that the capitol would move every few years with new elections, and Leia’s family moved with it.

Ben, seven years old now, had been out a few times to visit his uncle, thrilled to have the chance to sit in the pilot’s seat of the _Falcon_ on the way. Leia had been only once, but she’d been impressed. It was a campus of simple buildings in a temperate zone, where most of the work could be done outside. Luke brought in a rotating faculty of expert teachers. Together, he and his students learned history, practiced marksmanship, studied politics, sparred with fists and weapons, and repaired the buildings, ships, and electronics. 

It was wildly different from what he’d told her of life on Dagobah.

But it all hummed along. The students were energetic and eager. She’d known the first six, at least a little bit, from her Alliance days. She was struck by how they all seemed to have picked up that strange, deep solemnity that somehow existed in her cheerful, generous brother, as well.

And now there were many more students, the first class helping to teach the new ones, and Luke still at the center, doing his best to hold it all together.

Han, with Chewie by his side, had found a new role negotiating with the rougher colonial leaders. They spoke the same language, one of posturing and threats and local whisky. Leia was bewildered at how often fistfights ended in laughter and a deal. But she willingly patched Han up each time he came home with a black eye or a sprained shoulder, because it was so good to see him with a purpose again.

 

“You did _what?_ ” The anger in Leia’s voice was clear. 

Ben and Han were just back from three days away, visiting a settlement on Det VII. Ben loved traveling with his dad. He might be only nine-and-a-half, but Han and Chewbacca treated him like a regular member of the crew. He even had his own chores to do on the ship, and everything.

Ben was sorting through their bags, separating out dirty clothes from clean ones. Stuff that needed to be washed would go down the chute to the laundry droids, who would send everything back neatly folded. Stuff that hadn’t been worn yet needed to be put back in the storage drawers, in his room or his parents’. He laid out piles on the sofa: clean, dirty, mine, dad’s.

Han was in the dining area, tools spread out on the table and his favorite blaster partly disassembled. Leia was sitting across from him. She’d been sipping a cup of tea while they chatted about the mission. 

Ben didn’t think they realized he was watching, or that he was listening to every word. He liked hearing them talk like they were friends. Sometimes there were long stretches when it wasn’t like that.

But now his mom had set down her mug, and she looked absolutely furious. “Han,” she was saying, “he is _nine years old._ ”

“Hey, I was already helping my uncle smuggle Pathtan spice when I was that age.” Han spread his arms in a gesture that Ben recognized as _Who, me?_ “Didn’t hurt me any.”

Leia glared at him. “Oh, didn’t it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means that a responsible father does not bring his nine year old son to a negotiation with gun-toting guerillas in the middle of a war zone!”

“Aw, it wasn’t really a war zone. Hey, Ben!” Han called over to him, and Ben pretended he was just now paying attention. “Was it a war zone?”

Ben looked between his mom and dad, trying to decide what to say. He smoothed out one of Han’s shirts before he settled on, “Not really.”

“Ben.” Leia held his eyes. “Were there people with guns?”

Well, yes, there had been. Ben nodded.

“Were they pointing the guns at your father?”

“Sometimes.”

“Were they pointing the guns at _you?_ ”

“Only a little bit.”

“Only a.... Han Solo _what is wrong with you?_ ”

“Hey, we had it all under control. Didn’t we, kid?” Han shot him a smile and Ben felt proud, the way he had down on Det VII when he’d warned his father that the man across from him had a holdout blaster tucked under his ceremonial breastplate. 

“We did,” he told his mom. “Dad didn’t even have to shoot the guy, just threatened to and he gave right up. And then they got drunk together. It went a lot better than the last time,” he added happily. 

Han hadn’t actually been very drunk--he’d winked at Ben while he was pretending to slur his words--but Ben had pretended to help him back to the _Falcon_ that night. And the next morning (although he didn’t completely understand why) the very same man who’d been planning to shoot them had agreed that his colony would join the Republic. Han had been happy all the way home because it had gone so well. And Ben had helped. 

But now his mom’s face was a troubling shade of red. She was angry at his father, not at him, but she was _very_ angry. “You promised you’d keep him safe on these missions. ‘He won’t leave the _Falcon,_ ’ you said. I cannot _believe_ I ever let you take him.”

“Let me? _Let me?_ ” Han slammed down the disassembled blaster and stood up. “He’s my son, too, Leia. I’m done with you deciding what Ben and I are _allowed_ to do.”

“You--” Leia stopped. She was struggling with something, something she didn’t think she should say.

“I _what?_ ” said Han, and it was his dangerous voice. Ben had heard that tone before, but never at home. It was a warning voice, a voice his dad put on when someone was trying to hurt them.

“You’ve been using him.”

“Oh. I see.” Han towered over Leia and Ben was a little scared at how big he looked, and how angry. “And you haven’t?”

And just like that, Leia’s face crumpled, and she was crying. 

“What are we doing, Han?” she said. 

Ben had never seen his mother cry before. His father was just as confused as he was, he could feel it. Han crossed the few steps to wrap his arms around Leia, resting his chin on her head as she leaned into his chest. 

Ben sat on floor by the sofa, half-sorted laundry piled in front of him, feeling tears start in his own eyes. He’d thought they liked it when he helped. His mother always said thank you when he figured out that one of her politician friends wasn’t telling the truth. His father had seemed so proud that he helped on the missions. 

But now they were mad at each other. And they didn’t even seem to remember he was there.

He got up and carried the clean clothes to their proper storage drawers. He gathered up the dirty ones and pushed them down the chute, only dropping a couple of socks that he had to go back for. By the time he was done his mom had stopped crying. Han brought her a fresh mug of tea. They were acting like friends again.

Leia reached out an arm as Ben was heading back to put away the bags. He went to her, and she pulled him in for a hug. “You know we love you, don’t you? No matter what happens, we’re never mad at you.”

“Never,” his dad said, too.

 

That night, Ben called Uncle Luke on the vidphone. He brought the portable screen into his room and set it on the shelf above his bed, moving his model X-wing aside to make room. He had to whisper, because he wasn’t sure if his mom and dad were already asleep. 

Ben was pretty sure he’d woken his uncle up, because his hair looked all flat on one side of his head and he was yawning. Luke wasn’t dressed up in his Jedi outfit. He was wearing a t-shirt with the Alliance symbol on it, but all faded-looking and wrinkled. Ben liked him better that way: he looked like regular Uncle Luke, instead of Jedi Master Skywalker like the holovid people called him now. 

Ben wanted to ask if he was doing something wrong, but he wasn’t sure how to say it. Luckily his uncle was good at figuring things out.

“What’s wrong, Ben?” Luke peered at him through the screen. Ben wondered if the intense look meant his uncle was was using Jedi powers to read his mind. But then Luke yawned again and Ben thought, maybe not. “Are your parents fighting again?”

That wasn’t exactly a hard thing to guess. “I think they’re fighting about me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I helped my dad, and he was happy about it, but now mom’s mad at him.”

“Helped him how?”

Ben thought about how to explain it. “Is it bad to read people’s minds?”

“Not if they tell you it’s ok,” Luke said. “Whose mind are you reading?”

Ben loved talking to his uncle. Luke always took him seriously, even when he said things that other people might have thought were crazy. “Nobody’s right now,” he said. “It was a man on the planet. He wanted to shoot us.”

“Well,” Luke said, smiling. “I think figuring that out was a reasonable thing to do.” 

“Ok,” said Ben, “that’s good.”

“What about other people? Are you reading their minds, too?”

Ben suddenly felt uncomfortable. “I don’t mean to. It just happens sometimes.”

Luke wasn’t smiling anymore, but he didn’t look angry, just very serious. “I know you tell your mom things sometimes,” he said. “You’ve helped her stop some very dishonest people.”

Ben didn’t really understand about politics except that it was important, in his mom’s work, to know who was lying. He couldn’t always tell and when he could it was mostly just feelings: _truthful, dishonest, nervous._ Picking up on the hidden blaster had been new, to sense the man’s thought so clearly.

“What about other people?”

“Not really,” Ben said. 

“Tell me?”

There wasn’t much to tell. It didn’t happen very often. Just, sometimes he’d be at school or someplace, and he’d catch a feeling, and have to figure out where it came from. 

“Are you worried about it?” Luke asked.

Ben wasn’t, not much. It was pretty normal, honestly. Mostly it just helped him be nicer to the other kids, to recognize _anxious,_ or _excited,_ or _sad._

“All right,” his uncle said. “You let me know if things change, ok? Now how about you tell me about your trip.”

Ben did.

By the time he was done, Luke had his head in his hands. But then he looked up again, and he was trying not to laugh. “Don’t worry, Ben,” he said. “I’ll talk to Han. I have the feeling I know why your mom is mad at your dad.”

 

Ben was home from his classes early again. 

He’d told the teacher he had a headache. Leia was pretty sure he didn’t, but he also didn’t look very well, gaze a little unfocused and skin a bit too pale. He swiped angrily at the tears welling up in his eyes.

She settled next to him on the couch, wanting to reach out and put her arms around him but holding back. Ben was eleven years old now, and clearly thought he was getting too old to cry. 

“I can’t get them out of my head,” he said.

Han sat in the chair across from them, his expression halfway between worry and anger. “Are the other kids saying bad things about him?” he asked. 

Ben answered, even though the question wasn’t directed at him. “Not about me,” he said, and Leia was relieved to hear that. It wasn’t just the holovid audiences that loved Ben. With his friends he was still the game-starter, the squadron commander, the one who made sure no one was left out. It reassured her, to see her son’s kindness. It made her think he might be like her brother, so much light there was no room for the Dark.

“I can hear the bad things,” Ben said. A tear dropped down his cheek and he scrubbed at with his sleeve, rough enough to leave a red blotch. “Jom’s parents are splitting up, and he doesn’t want anyone to know. But _I_ know. He’s so angry and mean to everyone and I can’t tell anyone why.”

Han’s gaze shifted from Leia to the floor and back to her again, never landing on Ben. _You’re one of the bravest men I’ve ever met,_ Leia thought. _You can face down a Star Destroyer in the Falcon and make jokes when the shields fail. But you’re so damn tenderhearted you can’t watch your son cry._

“Maybe we should keep him home,” Han said.

“We can’t keep him home,” Leia said, still resisting the urge to pull Ben close. “He needs to learn how to live in the world.”

“We’ve got to do something,” Han said. “This is the second time this week.”

“I don’t want to stay home,” Ben said, directing his words to his father, waiting until Han finally looked at him. Leia was struck by how much Ben looked like his uncle in that moment, that same intense gaze that made it hard for Han to turn away. “I just want it to stop, Dad,” he said. “I want to be normal again.”

“You are normal, Ben. I promise you, you are normal,” Han told him, and Leia could see right through it.

She’d always been able to tell when Han was bluffing. Could their son?

Because Ben wasn’t normal. He never had been.

She didn’t think they’d get Luke on the vidphone that time of day. She could hear it buzzing on the other end, but no one picked up. He was out somewhere with his students, teaching them to use the Force, to control the Force… Leia felt a flash of anger. He was out there every day with someone else’s children, teaching them how to defend themselves, how to shield their minds so they didn’t end up sobbing over all the sad things in the world.

She forced the anger down, tried to remember: They’d talked about this so many times, over the years. Luke had his reasons, and they were good ones. The most important being Obi-Wan Kenobi, Ben’s namesake, her father’s friend. _He was a true Jedi,_ Luke had told her, _and he couldn’t teach someone he loved._

 _I can’t repeat his mistake,_ Luke had said. _What if I repeat his mistake?_

Leia had heard him. She’d understood.

It just didn’t do any good right now.

“Can’t you help him?” Han said. “You’ve got this Force thing, it’s never bothered you.”

But Leia had no idea why it didn’t. She’d gotten good at levitating books and pens. She could trade a thought with Luke across a room, and she knew when his shuttle touched down for a meeting or a visit. But that was it. The Force hadn’t made itself known to her, she’d had to go looking for it. And she’d been busy. She hadn’t looked very hard.

Ben went back to his classes. Some days he was fine. But more and more, he was coming home with “headaches.” His teachers began to look at Leia strangely when she dropped him off in the mornings, as if she and Han were neglecting him. “Have you visited the Medbay about this?” one took her aside and asked her, looking extremely concerned. Leia said they had. “They say it’s just a phase,” she said, and knew Ben could probably sense that she lied. She hoped he could understand why. “He’ll outgrow it.”

Uncle Luke would call on the vidphone when he could. Leia, listening in, would join them in taking a deep breath together, and closing their eyes, and putting up imaginary shields.

But it never lasted.

It would work for a while, and then Ben would come home again carrying someone else’s story in his head, furious or embarrassed or fighting off tears.

It wasn’t just the kids at his classes. It was the lady at the food depot, _lost her son in an Outer Rim skirmish a week ago._ It was the man in front of them on the moving transport, _fired from his job this morning and terrified of telling his wife._

Sometimes Luke would be on the ‘phone with Ben all night, the two of them talking until Ben nodded off. Luke would leave the connection open and Leia would find them sound asleep at each end of the ‘wave, Ben with the covers pulled tight around him, Luke with his head on his desk. At least, on those nights, Ben didn’t have nightmares.

But mostly, things got worse instead of better. The day came, just before Ben’s twelfth birthday, when he didn’t want to go with Leia to the Capitol anymore. He’d be his usual self, the young man who could charm smiles out of everyone, and then suddenly he’d look like someone had slapped him. He was used to the idea that politicians didn’t always tell the truth. But now he was starting to understand _why._

It was knowledge that Leia had lived with since she was a young teen herself, on Alderaan, talking with Senators at her father’s parties. But somehow it was different for Ben. It only troubled Leia’s mind, it didn’t hurt her soul.

And then one day, a few months later, Ben and Han were going out to do maintenance on the _Falcon._ A whole day with his father and Chewie, getting covered in dirt and grease, eating who-knew-what from the hangar concessions, hearing about adventures. Ben and Han were laughing about something as they headed out. 

But then Ben stopped. He looked at his father. 

“Dad,” he said, and the expression on his face broke Leia heart. “I think I'd rather stay home today.”

 

Leia got Luke on the vidphone that night. He looked exhausted, sitting at his desk in his quarters, but he looked at her as he always had: like he wanted to be there to rescue her, any time she asked.

“Please,” she said. “Please take him. 

“He needs you.”

 

Han started in on Luke the minute he walked in, before he’d even set down his bag. “There’s no one else,” he said. “He’s your nephew. He’s Leia’s son. He’s _my_ son. He needs you, Luke. He needs your school, he needs some kind of training. You’re the only one who knows a damn thing about it.”

“All right,” Luke said.

“If you think I’m going to let you leave without--” Han suddenly stopped. “Wait, did you say all right?”

“I said all right.”

“Well.” Han nodded. He was trying to be cool, but Leia could see through it: He was astonished that Luke had said yes.

Luke looked miserable. But try as she might, Leia couldn’t think of a better way.

“Can he be ready in two weeks?” Luke asked.

“He’ll be ready tomorrow if you want him,” Han said.

Luke shook his head. “Two weeks. Let’s let him be a little boy just a bit longer.”

 

Two weeks later, they met Luke at the spaceport. It was early morning. The corridors were empty this time of day, the bustle of commerce not yet begun. A good time for Ben, without the clamor of so many minds. 

The rising sun made sharp shadows under the transport ship. 

Leia kissed Ben and made him promise to vidcall every week. Han hugged him until Ben finally squirmed away. “All right dad! I’ll be with Uncle Luke, it’s not like I’m never coming home.”

Han let go, raising his hands in the air. He managed something like his usual breezy tone as he told Luke, “We want him back in one piece. No lightsaber wounds or anything, you hear me?” He paused, then said, ”You’ll take good care of him.”

“You know I will,” Luke said. His voice sounded strange, Leia thought. So serious, like a vow.

But he had a smile on his face when he turned to Ben. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Leia reached for Han’s hand, and they watched their son walk away.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] All the Right Reasons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7170122) by [roane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roane/pseuds/roane)




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